


Sam, Repeatedly Interrupted

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Jody Mills, Background Sam/Eileen, Castiel's Wings, Cute Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Rediscovers LARP, Dean and PDA, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Husbands Who LARP Together Stay Together, Implied Sexual Content, LARPing, M/M, Mastermind Jody, Parental Jody Mills, Quote: Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically irrationally erotically codependent on each other, References to Canon, Sam and Dean Take a Break, Sam and Frustration, Shipper Jody Mills, Side Dean/Castiel, The Bros Rediscovering How Much They Love Each Other, alone time, very little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: The brothers take a break from their codependency to rediscover who they are separately ~ some discoveries less surprising than others.





	Sam, Repeatedly Interrupted

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my own life right now on a more personal level, and realizing how much a break can do for someone to help clear their head. Hence why I thought of Dean and Sam, who, as we know, are so ridiculously (and erotically, apparently... I completely forgot about that line!) codependent and could probably use a break to their individual benefits and decided to add a humorous component to it ~ because how long would THAT last for them? ;P
> 
>  
> 
> Also, this may be the last fic I churn out until next week because I am off to VEGASCON. <3333 (I'll still try to write something before I leave though, if an idea presents itself in convenient timing.)

"Wait, wait—for _how_ long?" the brothers reply together.

Jody rolls her eyes as both Winchesters turn to each other with expressions so white, all they're missing is a sheet to pull over them. And though, for once, it's not _that_ serious, both men can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of loss already. "Just for a week. C'mon, like you two haven't spent time by yourselves."

"Not since I was 3," Dean replies, stone-faced.

"And not since I... wasn't... born," Sam adds.

Jody drops her head with pointed hazel eyes. "Seriously?"

"Well, I mean _maybe_ when we, ya know... but even then, I have to check on him because Sam always sounds like he's being possessed."

"Oh _really_? What makes you the orgasm expert?"

"The fact that I _don't_ use the term 'orgasm expert'."

"Okay, enough," Jody interjects, "we'll make it a few days, tops."

"Why are we even doing this?" Dean asks. He turns to Sam, hoping to find the same pluck in his expression, since they practically are conjoined twins, but instead finds a parted mouth and wide eyes like a newly exposed rusty penny, just blaring **DANGER!**. He gulps before turning back to Jody, whose jaw's buckling like a mother strapping the seatbelt on a stubborn child. "Y-you know, since we've been together most of our lives and he wasn’t even that badly injured, you know, maybe I overreacted a _tad_ with the first aid... and... help me out, Sammy."

"If any time's a good time to cut the cord, it's now," Sam argues, throwing up his hands.

"Really?!"

"Okay, listen up, _children_ ," Jody starts, pushing herself from the Bunker wall to raise a threatening finger at each of them, "you are going to spend time apart because I am a mother and I know what's best. Are we clear?"

Both brothers nod tightly.

"Good. Now take a shower, you both stink like Rougarou. Do I need to remind you to do _that_ separately too?"

 

 

It starts out easy enough. Sam’s up before Dean anyway, so he swipes the Impala’s keys from Dean’s room and heads out. Usually he and Dean would be a hundred miles away in some remote location in the US, but since Jody and her girls offered to take over the local cases, Sam’s only hunt for the next few days will be for books.

Granted most of the books in the Bunker library are denser than even he cares to waste perfectly good brain cells on, he heads to the public library.

The drive alone is nice. It’s quiet, undisturbed by Dean’s loud chomping or his “historical” account of every street they pass, wherein Dean rambles about how wasted he got at _this_ bar and _that_ bar. Sam even gets to pick the music, which terrifies him more than thrills him, because he doesn’t even remember what he _likes_ , so he flips through the stations periodically until he finds something that fancies his ear. At first, he keeps it low, not wanting to be a public menace like Dean with his music, but then the chorus hits and he can’t help it:

_“The bloody messiah! Give it up, give it up!”_

The library isn’t too packed for a Friday morning. Most of the few people that are in there are kids half his age ( _half? When did that happen?),_ hunched over a massive textbook and kept awake only by the strength of their arm loosely cradling their head.

God, how the time flies. In a way, he misses Stanford. Misses the freedom of constant worry and sacrificial demands, but in another, he doesn’t miss leaving a dull existence behind. He _saves_ people. Most lawyers can only dream of doing the same, and that’s just within the justice system. If Dean hadn’t have picked him up that day, he would’ve never had a family—his _real_ family. He loved Jess, but she wasn’t what he was looking for. Sam, as much as a seventeen-year-old him would’ve denied it to the ends of the pre-apocalypse earth, wanted his biological family. He wanted his dad and his mom and his brother and would’ve never found closure to all three of those relationships had he not tagged along with Dean to track down a Woman in White.

He rummages around in his tote bag to find something before placing it on the table next to one of the college kids. He exchanges glances from the 5 hour energy to the tall, lanky man towering above him with a look of perplexity mixed with suspicion—like he’s never been offered anything in his life for free (which, in college, _is_ highly unlikely, so Sam doesn’t blame him). Sam gives him a small smile before moving on his way.

The next thing he knows, he finds himself in the autobiographical section. Sometimes, to rediscover himself, Sam has to see life through someone else’s eyes. He does this by plucking _On the Road_ off the shelf—a book which he’s heard but never had the time to invest in—and sits down to read.

Sal is a pretty interesting character. He reminds him a lot of himself at Stanford: quiet, intellectually stimulated. He has a few close friends, but there’s something missing from his life. That’s when Dean (of all names) Moriarty moves to NYC, and Sal comes to realize he’s basically the complete opposite of him: Loud, brash, and just an all-around bucket of crazy. But Sal is intrigued by him. They start to hang out more and more, and before he knows it, Sal is leaving behind his friends in NYC to road trip with Dean. Along the way, they meet this guy named Carlo Marx, who reminds Sam a lot of Cas: lost amongst the sea of humanity, but highly intelligent. He and Dean form a strong bond and Carlo tries to sleep with Dean at one point, but…

Sam snaps the book shut. That’s enough reading for one day.

 

 

Dean’s only mildly surprised to wake up and find the keys to the Impala gone. He only hopes Sam took her out so early to get _laid,_ but that’s a dream in itself. He’s probably doing something boring like going to the museum or the library and Dean knows for a fact there aren’t any hot librarians there.

He rubs his eyes as he plots down the stairs, grumbling about how nine am should be cancelled altogether. He doesn’t really have a plan in mind for his first day alone, so he takes it easy, making some coffee, reading the paper, and drinking said coffee before moving to the other side of the study room. He tries pulling out a book, but when he comes up with _Monster Dysphoria and Its Use in Modern Research,_ he immediately shoves it back in and moves on.

It’s been a while since Dean’s listened to music without Sam griping out “another Zeppelin track”. He shrugs and heads back upstairs to grab some of his vinyl’s and sifts through them. _Physical Graffiti, Houses of the Holy, I, II, III, IV?_ May as well play them all without Sam’s nagging voice telling him otherwise.

A smile slips across Dean’s lips when “Going to California” cracks and pops on the player. Though he’ll never admit to it, this one’s always reminded him of him and Sam. (And should anyone ask, yes, Sam is the girl in the song with “love in her eyes and flowers in her hair”.) Dean driving out to Palo Alto to pick up that little nerd mop with legs. Them instantly clicking again after five long years, the way two brothers should.

He doesn’t regret that day. In fact, it’s one of the only things in his life he doesn’t regret.

Another one that gets him is “The Rain Song”, because it’s ever-changing with his life. It used to remind him of his mom. _The sunlight in my growing/So little warmth I’ve felt before, speak to me with only your eyes._ In a way, it still does. His mom, as he remembered her, was your standard loving, nurturing mother, but of course had that something special that put her above all other moms. Dean always thought it was the way she cut the crusts of his PB&Js or lulled him to sleep with the Beatles, but when she came back, he realized it was because she never had a chance to fully embrace him in her warmth.

But after the night in Ramiel’s, he realized how applicable those lyrics always were to Cas. Cas barged into their weird little world and loved Dean unconditionally, despite the clearly outlined terms and conditions. And most of the time when he stares, Dean will play it off as something weird when he’s really just uncomfortable with the idea of someone looking at him the way Cas does. Like he’s crucial to the survival of not only himself, but to the rest of the world.

Come to think of it… it’s been a while since he’s spent some quality guy time with him.

Dean lifts the needle from the record and dials his number.

 

 

“Would you like a refill?”

Sam glances up from his menu to meet the eyes of his waitress. She’s cute. Tall with brown hair extending past her shoulders. Reminds him of Olivia Wilde in a way, with the shape of her face. Dean would probably encourage him with every indiscreet facial expression he can muster to take her to bed, but Dean isn’t here, so instead he responds, “No, I’m okay, thank you,” with a more schooled expression without him.

“Suit yourself,” she replies with a curiously raised brow that says she’s not used to rejection as she takes her pen to her pad in a huff, “Have you decided on something?”

“Um…” Dean would never let him live it down if he heard these words out his mouth, but, “The vegan burger sounds good. Extra lettuce and tomato.”

He swears he can hear his brother say _Really? Why don’t you just order a salad?_

He realizes once the order arrives and he takes that first bite though that he probably _would’ve_ been better off with a salad. Or a bacon cheeseburger. He could use some carbs after his midday run.

The waitress is not pleased with the double rejection. He prays his cheeseburger doesn’t get spat on.

Either way, when she returns and he sinks his teeth into the soft sesame bun, he has to admit; sometimes his brother has good taste.

“That’s better.”

Sam pauses mid-chomp. He _knows_ that voice didn’t come from his head. He swivels behind him only to find none other than Dean and Cas in the adjacent booth. **_“Seriously?”_**

“Hey, I’m just as surprised as you—when do you eat something other than tofu?”

“What’s going on?” Cas interrupts.

“Dean and I are supposed to be spending time apart,” Sam rejoins with a sigh.

Cas shakes his head and narrows his eyes in that Cas-like way. “Why?”

“Because Jody thinks we’re too codependent,” Dean says. “I overrated on a hunt and she thinks some alone time will do us good in order to salvage our relationship or whatever.”

Cas whips his head back to Dean. “You told me he was on a hunt.”

“He is,” Dean replies, leaning back with a grin before bringing his Coke to his lips, “On a hunt for carbs.”

“ _Dea—_ no.” Sam holds up his hands. “No, I’m not going to argue. We’re not even supposed to be talking. I’m just gonna finish my burger in peace and head out. And I’m not gonna tell you where I’m going.”

“Botanical Garden for the three o’clock Butterfly Exhibit.”

“H-how did you—?”

“I actually got to read the paper this morning because you were in a big rush to head out, and I just took a shot in the dark.” Dean puts on his best pout face. “Honestly, Sammy, you’re adorable. Predictable, but adorable.”

“I’m— _ugh!”_ Sam can feel the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment, which is perfect timing for the waitress to make her way around to Dean and Cas for their orders. Sam slams a twenty on the table and heads out—almost without turning back, because then Dean yells something Sam’s sure is incriminating even though he can’t hear it over the blood pounding in his ears, so he turns around.

Only, Dean’s focus is now back on Cas—and the top of his hand. He may even be caressing it and Cas may be _totally_ into it the way he’s turning red and squeezing Dean’s hand.

Sam grins. Maybe he’s not the only one who’s predictable.

 

***

Dean never thought he’d be back here again.

He’s standing out on an open field, amongst hundreds of eager men and women. Instead of leading them, however, he’s one with them. He’s decked head to waist in chainmail with a black belt for support and matching slacks. Black gloves encase the mint sword in his hand and the shield baring his coat of arms in the other (the kingdom welder—or, you know, the guy in the graphic design department—decided to make his colors blue, purple, and pink for some reason, but the lion head in the middle is pretty cool so he let it slide). He even has his face half painted purple and blue and is adorning a long red wig.

That’s right: He’s back into LARPing.

It’s amazing what a quick search online can do for “local LARP groups”. It’s not Moondoor, by any means, but it’s still pretty cool. Best of all, he doesn’t get the judgment from Sam, looming over him like a dark cloud of jealously. (Dean knows Sam just wishes he could fill in chainmail the way he does.)

Cas even tagged along with him—and best of all, agreed to dressing up, too (despite having little idea what’s going on). He’s next to Dean, wearing a black, baggy long-sleeve cotton shirt with lacing on both sleeves and his chest, exposing a bit of tanned skin. His pants are tighter above a matching orange belt, making his large thighs stand out, and up to his knees are tightly laced and shiny boots.

The best part of his get-up, though, is Cas’s wings because they’re not paper or prosthetics: They’re _his_ wings.

Despite having more than a few feathers missing, they’re gorgeous. Long and black and silky to the touch. And since they’re in character, people just believe Cas is this good a LARPer. Many men and women alike have tried to strike up a conversation with the devastatingly handsome soldier because of them, but Cas seems disinterested. It’s weird, especially since some of them are half-naked faeries the hunter has probably slept with _outside_ of LARP, but it’s no surprise to Dean, who even mustered the courage at one point during their traitorous walk to the frontlines to intertwine their fingers. He’s not sure why, but he hasn’t let go since.

As most battles of this nature begin, someone yells and then a whole bunch of people yell and that’s how the two take off running, swords a’shining.

Dean manages to “kill” quite a few people before he turns to Cas, who’s amid fencing another dude when the front of his shirt gets slashed.

Meanwhile, Dean’s sword gets slapped out of his hand and gets thrown into the neighboring park behind them, landing next to a male and female couple Dean recognizes as Sam and Eileen.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!” Sam gripes, despite the amusement tickling Eileen’s cheeks.

Dean can’t even bother with Sam today though, as less and less people are engaged in battle and more and more are gathering around Cas, whose vessel is glowing brightly and slowly absorbing the wound until there’s nothing left.

“He eats his Wheaties!” Dean yells as he grabs Cas’s hand again, this time to yank him away before Cas zaps them back to the Bunker. “Jesus Christ, Cas, what was that?!”

“I thought I had the upper hand—he was good. _Too_ good.”

“He was a _tax preparer.”_

“Dean... why are you so close to me?”

Dean licks his lips. His eyes have shifted to Cas’s bare chest, his throat, and eventually his lips, which are soft but far too cracked, so when Cas responds to him, Dean fills them with the sticky cement from his tongue.

 

 

“Jody, this isn’t working.”

“ _Well hello to you too, Sam.”_

“I’m serious, Jody,” Sam rambles, running his hand through his hair for what has to be the dozenth time in the past two days as he presses the phone closer to his ear, “I don’t know what to do! I feel like I’m going even crazier trying to avoid Dean, because it’s like-like I’m in a _Police_ song! Every step I take, he’s watching me! Oh God,” Sam moans, clutching his head, “I’m even talking in obscure 80’s references now. I literally feel like I’m turning into my brother—”

“ _Sam!”_ Jody shouts. “ _What’s he doing right now?”_

Sam narrows his eyes. “What’s he—what do you mean what’s he doing? He’s being Dean! He’s probably hanging from the rafters in my room as we speak!”

“ _Just go check on him!”_ she commands.

Sam sighs and searches the Bunker to his chagrin. Amazing how _now_ Dean’s nowhere in sight. It’s not until he makes his way to his bedroom that Sam perks up like a dog at attention. Through his closed door, he can distinctly hear the rustling of Dean’s sheets and his voice, soft and pleading in a way Sam hasn’t heard since… well, since the last time Dean was _dying,_ mumbling Cas’s name over. Sam’s eyes widen in horror when his voice goes from soft and pleading to loud and greedy and Cas’s own joins in with a loud sigh before he remembers Jody on the other line.

“Um…” He starts after shuffling in the opposite direction, away from the ear-bleeding noises. “I mean, he and Cas are… uh…”

“ _I know.”_

Sam whips his head. “Wait, _what_?! What do you mean you knew?”

“ _Sam, I would never tell you boys when you need a break; although, I’m sure it was well-deserved. I’ve never seen two people stress each other out more in the name of family—and I live with three teenage girls.”_ Sam can practically feel her smile through the phone. He smiles in return, despite still being confused. “ _I wanted you to break from Dean so he could focus on pursuing Cas.”_

Sam scoffs, “Didn’t you guys meet for, like, five seconds a few days ago?”

“ _That’s all the time a mother needs to see the way her boy looks at his sweetheart.”_

Sam laughs and shrugs a little. Fair enough. He saw it pretty quickly, too. You know, like, when Cas raised Dean from Hell. “Yeah, well, as long as this means he’ll stop interrupting my life, I’m totally cool with it.”

“ _Mmm, highly doubt that,”_ Jody laughs. “ _Bye, Sam.”_

“Bye, Jody,” Sam replies before hanging up as another howl rips through Dean’s room so loud, Sam can hear it from across the hall. He’ll definitely mention it to Dean later—about how he sounds like he’s being possessed.

Sam laughs quietly to himself. He may never get the alone time he’s come to find out he needs for very long, but he has a feeling Cas will keep him occupied long enough for him to sneak out of the house again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Cas's roleplay outfit inspired by this: https://costureroreal.patternbyetsy.com/listing/453801194/men-shirt-renaissance-peasant-cotton  
> Dean's roleplay outfit inspired by this: http://www.pearsonsrenaissanceshoppe.com/mail-armor-shirt.html


End file.
